


A Helping Hand

by chippedchinamugs



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Bang Chan is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Submission, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chippedchinamugs/pseuds/chippedchinamugs
Summary: When Chan catches you stressing over work for the ten millionth time, he decides to take matters into his own hands by helping you relax, unwind, and feel taken care of. (Whether you like it or not ... and it turns out you like it very, very much.)
Relationships: Bang Chan/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 96





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> WHOO. I haven't written a fic of any kind in at least five years, and this smut-free soft Chan experience is what drags me back in. I may come back to this at some point and write some more sappy, self-indulgent daddy!Chan if the spirit moves me, so let me know if you have any requests!

"Baby? Are you okay?"

You hear Chan calling you from the kitchen, but you can barely process what he's said among the frenetic buzz of worry at the forefront of your mind. Between work deadlines, conflicts with your family, and struggling to keep up with chores around your apartment, you have dozens of items on your to-do list and no energy to do any of them.

No matter how many times you've been in this position before, you still have yet to find a good way to get out from under your stress when it gets this bad. Keeping a detailed planner is too overwhelming to keep up with. Setting reminders on your phone just irritates you. And Chan ... 

He always wants to help, so badly. He tries to anticipate when you're getting swamped, secretly does dishes when you work yourself to the point of exhaustion so that you can wake up to a clean kitchen, wraps his arms around you and tells you that it's okay if you need to cry ... it's all too much. Accepting his help, even when you don't ask for it, makes you feel like such a burden. He's way busier, way more stressed, under way more pressure than you - you just can't ask him to take care of you more than he already does. You owe him so much without also laying the weight of your poor scheduling and stress management on his shoulders -

"Hey, baby? Are you in there?" Suddenly, you feel his hands gently running through your hair, thumbs grazing your cheeks and coming away slick with tears you didn't realize you'd shed. "I tried calling you, but you didn't answer ... Are you feeling a little stressed?"

You shake your head, hard, pulling out of his grasp and hiding your face from his knowing gaze. "No, I'm okay. Sorry. Is dinner ready already? I just have to finish this memo and then I can come eat with you. I got really in the zone and I guess I lost track of time?" You glance up at the clock and realize that it's well past ten PM. "Oh shit, Chris, I'm sorry, I was going to help you clean up, I didn't see how late it was getting -"

He grabs your hands, pulling them away from where you'd been scratching anxiously at the back of your neck. "Whoa, sweetheart, slow down there. Everything's okay. I'm not mad." The stress boils under your skin, making you fidgety. You need to be doing *something*. "Hey, hey. It's alright. Can you look at me for a second?"

Absolutely not. The idea of staring him in the face and admitting how incapable you are of getting things done, of being an adult - it's too much.

"Y/N, please, just look at me. It's okay. I'm not upset at you. Can you tell me what's wrong?" His voice is so soft, and sweet, and caring, and for the first time, you feel a warm, fuzzy feeling calling to you from the back of your mind. Wouldn't it be nice to let Chan take care of things for a little while? To let him take care of *you*?

Finally, you pry your puffy eyes open long enough to peek up at him. In that moment, his presence over you feels warm and comforting and ... big, somehow. "Not mad?" you whimper, voice small and shaky.

"No, baby, of course not. Of course I'm not mad at you." Big hands wrap around yours, safe and strong. "Come on, let's get you some water and then snuggle up on the couch with some dinner, okay?"

Snuggling sounds good. And your stomach is gnawing with hunger. But your focus pulls magnetically back to your computer, your notebook, too many things to do and people waiting for you to fix things -

"Alright, that's it," Chan sighs, and suddenly you're not sitting at your desk anymore. He bundles you up in his arms and carries you away, despite your weak protests and whines. "Come on, little one. Time to stop for the night."

Every step, every gentle kiss to your forehead, every quiet reassurance washes over you like the lapping of the tide, dragging you toward those warm and fuzzy feelings. You feel very small with Chan holding you like this. You don't need to worry about anything. He's taking care of all of it.

You're on the couch now, bundled up in your favorite fuzzy blanket. This feels good. Much better than working on dumb boring stuff. "There we go. You look very cozy, little girl. Are you comfy?" Chan's deep voice cradles you, pushing the big stress feelings further and further away. You nod slowly. Everything feels heavy and warm all over.

He sits down next to you, tucks you under his arm and holds you close. "Do you want some dinner? I heated up some leftovers for you." Something about that doesn't feel right, resurfacing those bad feelings you'd tried to get away from. "Hey, baby, don't cry. It's okay. Here, why don't you sit up and we can eat together?"

Your fist clenches around a fork. The plate of pasta in front of you presents an insurmountable obstacle. If you try to eat it, your hands will shake, and you'll make a mess, and Chan will be mad -

"Sweetheart, do you want Daddy to feed you?"

Without thinking, you nod, biting your lip hard to stop from crying even more. Chan can do it. He can take care of everything. He'll fix all the bad things. 

"Okay, baby girl. You're okay. Let's sit you up a little bit so Daddy can look after you. And maybe, if you're very good," you spare a glance up at his smiling face, and see his eyes twinkling, "we can have some ice cream!"

You squeal with joy, tears long forgotten.

By the time you've finished eating - Chan's smile never leaves his face, even when you get fussy and turn your nose up at the last few bites - you're so tired that you can't keep your eyes open. Chan bundles you up once more and takes you to bed with him.

"Baby, I can't thank you enough for letting me take care of you like this. It hurts my heart seeing you struggle and not letting me help you." His fingers rub soothingly at your scalp, lulling you closer and closer to sleep. "You've been calling out for your daddy all this time, and I wasn't listening, was I? But it's okay. I'm here now, and I won't let you go. I'll take care of you no matter what."

\---

You wake up with something foreign in your mouth. When did you even go to bed? And what are you ...

Chan's thumb? Why are you sucking his thumb? What time is it, anyways? 

"11:15?! Chan, what happened to my alarm? Why didn't you wake me up? Fuck, I have so much to do, I was supposed to call my boss and update him on my draft, and we need to go to the grocery store -"

Even though sleep still clings to you like a specter, the weight of your stress crashes into you, sends a rush of tension down your spine. "Why didn't you let me finish my work last night? Fuck, I'm never gonna get everything done at this rate!"

Chan, for his part, sits up against the headboard, looking smug as a pig in shit. "Baby, don't worry. I took care of it."

You reel around and glare at him with bleary eyes. "What do you mean, you took care of it?!"

"Baby girl, come here and sit down with me for a little bit before you go off on one, okay?"

That name slithers across your skin, teasing you with a traitorous sense of calm that you have no time for right now. "Don't call me that! Ugh, I should have just stayed up and gotten everything done -"

"Y/N, seriously, can you just sit down for a minute so that we can talk? Then you can go sort out whatever you need to."

You toss your head stubbornly, but find yourself perching on the end of the bed despite yourself. "Okay, fine." Staring at the ground is much less overwhelming than confronting the shame gnawing at your stomach. "What do you wanna talk about?"

A long, gusty sigh. Then, "Baby, are you upset at yourself for letting me take care of you?"

How dare he cut to the very core of you like that? How dare he see that dark, craven part of you - parts of you that you've yet to understand yourself - and not want to walk away from the unmanaged disaster that is your life? "I should be able to do it on my own," you whisper, trying to hold fast to the dam keeping your emotions in check.

You feel sick in your own skin, like you've let something out that you should have kept to yourself. It's hard to tell if you're more frustrated for letting last night happen, or from Chan forcing you to relive your disappointing inadequacy. "Everyone else can get their work done and do chores and sleep and eat at normal times, and I just work and work and never finish anything, and I mess things up all the time, and instead of figuring out how to be an adult and handle things, you want me to just give up and accept that I'm a useless idiot who can't even -"

It's not until Chan grips your shoulders that you realize you're shaking, and your throat is hoarse from shouting. "Baby. Sweetheart. Please stop. You know I don't like hearing you talk about yourself like -"

"Like *what*, Christopher?" you snap, tossing your head to the side to escape his teary staring. "Like the truth? You'd rather not accept that your girlfriend can't even get simple deadlines right without breaking down and crying like a little baby?"

A long pause. You can feel the silence, the judgment, curving your shoulders into a defeated slump. This is it. This is the moment where he admits that, yes, it was too much to deal with. You are, in fact, a shameful excuse for an adult woman.

"Y/N, have you ever heard of littlespace?"

All the fight goes out of you at that. "No, I haven't. Is this relevant somehow to why you're breaking up with me?" Yeah, that feels better. Act cool. You can cry when he's gone.

He holds your chin delicately between forefinger and thumb, and tugs until you can't help but meet his eyes. "Hey. I'm not breaking up with you. You're my girl, right?" he prompts, and when you don't answer, he tugs your chin up and down. "And would I ever let anything bad happen to my sweet girl?" Now he shakes your head. The goofy gesture brings an unwelcome smile to your face.

"Let me see if I can explain littlespace to you, and then explain some things about me to you, and see if that helps dry up some of these tears, okay?" Now, taken off guard by his affectionate smile and loving gaze, you nod of your own volition. "Okay. So, there are some people who are smart, and confident, and independent, and capable. And they can handle anything the world throws at them. But sometimes, when they get too stressed, or they want to have fun, or they're just feeling like it, they start feeling, and acting ... little. Sometimes they feel younger, and sometimes they just feel small, or shy, or like they want to be looked after by someone strong that they can trust.

"Letting themselves feel little like that helps them let go of some of that stress that's hard to shake. And do you wanna know something about your boyfriend?" Another nod. "I like taking care of people who feel like that. And if feeling little sometimes helps you feel better, I would love nothing more than to help you feel happy, and safe, and loved."

Your head spins. "But I shouldn't -" His finger lands on your lips.

"No buts, sweetheart. If you want to be looked after, and if it helps you manage your stress, I want to do it. This has nothing to do with whether or not you *can* handle things yourself. I know you can. You're one of the cleverest and most responsible people I know. But you don't *have* to be in control all the time, if you don't want to."

In that moment, all you can think about is that warm, glowing feeling from yesterday, knowing that you were Chan's, that he was taking care of every single detail, that you were something small and precious and worthy of being treasured. When you were in the thick of it, you didn't feel lesser, or incapable. You felt ... sweet. Safe. Small.

"I just ... you always have so much going on, and you shouldn't have to worry about me on top of worrying about your members, and work, and Stay ... I don't wanna be another thing on your list of people to take care of ..."

Chan laughs at that, and the deep, throaty sound of it pushes you further down into those warm good feelings. "Baby girl, why do you think that list is so long to begin with? Hell, why do you think I started calling our fans my baby stays? I *like* taking care of people. It makes me feel useful. I like feeling like the people I love rely on me, and look to me for help and support."

Okay. Even the self-loathing, hyper-critical voice in your head can't argue with that. "Um ... do you ... You promise you'll tell me if it's too much? If I'm bothering you?" 

You can do this. If he wants it, and you need it, and it makes you feel good ... how can there be anything wrong with that?

His strong hands grab you by the hips and pull you into his lap. "Of course, baby. We're a team, right? You help me, and I help you." You like helping. "And right now, you know how you can help me?" 

"Umm ..." A lot of thoughts bounce around your head, but your tongue can't wrap around them for long enough to get them out of your mouth. Instead, you tip your head forward until you're cushioned against Chan's shoulder. Much comfier this way.

"There we go. There's a good girl." A pleasant, flustered heat blooms behind your sternum. "You like being Daddy's good girl, don't you?" You give a happy, wordless chirp. You always swore up and down that you'd never be one of those girls who called their boyfriend daddy. But Chan isn't just your boyfriend. He's your person.

"Um, Daddy? You said I ... help?"

His laugh is so comforting. The cheery rumble of it vibrates his chest against your ear. "Baby girl, you're already helping plenty. You don't need to worry about a thing."

The rest of the day passes in a bleary haze of movies, snacks, and lots and lots of cuddles. Working together, you and Chan tackle two loads of dishes, all the laundry piled up in your bedroom, and a particularly challenging multi-moon in Super Mario: Odyssey. 

(Sure, Chan does most of the washing, and the folding, and he takes the joy-cons out of your hands before you start having a fit at Cappy's refusal to do what you want, but he *insists* that he couldn't do it without you.)

Finally, after you're both comfy in bed, you start feeling ... big, again. More like the orderly, in control version of yourself that you're used to. "Chris?" you murmur. Gone is the tiny voice you'd found comfortable and easy to sink into all day.

"Hey, baby. Not feeling so little now?" You're cradled against him, and it still feels good, being all wrapped up in the smell of his deodorant.

"I dunno. I guess not?"

Chan's long fingers card through your hair, working out several small tangles without a thought. "Did you have a good day?"

"I did," you sigh, utterly content. "Really good. And now I have less stuff to worry about tomorrow."

(As it turns out, your loving boyfriend had "taken care of" the work on your plate by logging into your laptop and sending your boss a quick, perfectly polite email that you needed to take a sick day, and that you'd have your draft prepared tomorrow afternoon.)

(He'd also texted his members that his girl needed looking after, and they smoothly got him excused from rehearsal and meetings for the next two days. But that's a surprise he plans to deliver tomorrow morning, along with breakfast in bed.)

Even without looking, you can feel his smile. "I'll save the I told you so for another day, because my girl deserves to feel like a treasure before I remind her that she's a bit of a drongo."

(And if Chan wakes up in the middle of the night to find you sucking his thumb in your sleep again, well, that's just a little thank you gift to him.)


End file.
